


Lemme eat you up like the SNACK you are

by thatpepsilad



Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: Blindfolds, Bottom Sweden (Hetalia), Family Dynamics, Food Sex, Kinky, Light Dom/sub, M/M, Top Finland (Hetalia), bossy fin, dennor mention :), fin is referred to as 'wife', youre fuckin welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-09
Updated: 2020-12-09
Packaged: 2021-03-10 00:40:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27975280
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thatpepsilad/pseuds/thatpepsilad
Summary: Sweden and Finland make the most of having a weekend to themselves.Please check tags and author notes!
Relationships: Finland/Sweden (Hetalia)
Kudos: 33





	Lemme eat you up like the SNACK you are

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Waitthisisnthistoryy](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Waitthisisnthistoryy/gifts).



> A SuFin fanfic I wrote aaages ago (like, 2017) as a way of flirting with my then best friend, now partner. Sorry I'm posting Hetalia smut in the year of our lord 2020 but lets be fuckin real this year is absolute garbage and we are allowed our guilty pleasures. Death of the author and all that- the reader creates the meaning bla bla...
> 
> Anyway. Characters shift between using human names and nation titles freely, mainly because I used them pretty interchangeably ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯ Smut doesn't start straight away because I have that fuckin 18th century literature disease that gives me the inability to write anything short form. 
> 
> Reading it back after three years will give me hives so if you find any errors go ham and point them out to me. If there is anything that I haven't tagged but needs to be let me know and I'll update as quickly as I can. 
> 
> Enjoy, or don't. Comments and kudos feed my children and water my crops.

“Viili?”

“No.”

“Ooh… how about a soup?”

“Fin…”

“What?” The small blond grinned, leaning backwards against the kitchen counter by the oven and nudging his husband with a knee. 

Sweden glanced over at Sealand, who had finished setting the table and was sat swinging his legs in his chair, bouncing his feet off the table legs. His head was buried in his DS, attention liable only to shift towards what was in the oven in the next five minutes.

“What, you'd rather whipped cream and strawberries?” Finland leant forward to murmur into Sweden’s ear, before leaning back again with a tiny smirk. “That's a bit cliche, Swe.”

“Mhm.” He cleared his throat, sending a look to Fin as he bent to take their lasagne out of the oven. “Peter, watch your feet on the table, please.”

Finland knew that look. It was his ‘cut it out’ look, generally reserved for when Denmark got rowdy after a drink or two and Sweden didn't want to cause a scene in whatever bar they were currently drinking. Whereas it rarely worked on the boisterous Dane, and perhaps even egged him on further, Finland knew when to take a hint. It didn't stop him from giggling though, or from letting out an exaggerated hum of approval when Swe cut into the golden top of the lasagne. 

“Dad, why are your cheeks red?” Sealand piped once they were all seated, his legs swinging again, but this time thankfully not against the table. 

“‘S hot by the oven,” Sweden muttered, ignoring the way that Finland slowly pulled his fork from his mouth, licked across the prongs, then slipped it back in, staring across the table at his husband. 

Sealand, again, was thankfully too busy to pay any heed to the weird behaviour his ‘mama’ was exhibiting. He was too focused on dissecting his lasagne and pulling out chunks of tomato, leaving them on the side of the plate. At least this time he wasn't dropping them to the floor for the dog to eat. 

“Why so many tomatoes? You said you'd blend them next time,” Sealand pouted, grimacing at the offending vegetables. 

“Yer Mama made the sauce; take it up with him.” Sweden glanced pointedly over the table to the other, who shrugged innocently. 

“I must have forgotten, baby,” Fin lamented, momentarily switching back to his usual softer self. “I'll do it properly next time, I promise.”

“Yeah, you better!” Their son wrinkled his nose and stuck out his tongue in distaste. 

When he went back to picking at his food, not even taking his gaze away, Sweden knew the tomatoes were no accident on Finland’s part.

* * *

Sweden never thought he would be so relieved to see Denmark’s face as the brash nation showed up at their door an hour later. 

“What's up, Swede?” A toothy grin was plastered across his face as he stepped in. “Looking kinda tense there. Fin gettin’ started already?”

Gritting his teeth, Sweden nodded, running a hand over his face and closing the door behind Denmark. As airheaded as the man carried himself, there were certain things that he had a knack for noticing. The way Finland liked to play games with Sweden was one of such things, especially when Fin was comforted in the knowledge they'd have the house to themselves for an extended period of time. 

That was where Denmark came in. 

Several days ago he and Norway had called, asking if Sealand would like to come and stay for a weekend. They hadn't had much of a chance to visit lately, being busy with work of course, but also house renovations. They had finally gotten around to redecorating Iceland’s old room, despite him having moved out quite a few years ago. It had been a bigger project than expected, apparently, but it now held semblance to a guest bedroom. 

“It's sickeningly domestic, I know,” Norway had groaned down the phone, and Sweden could practically feel the grimace through the receiver. “But it was mainly me doing the work while Mattias bitched about getting paint in his hair from the roller. Anyway, we thought Peter would like to be the first to stay there, since it's all new.”

That had been nice to hear. He didn't want to say that Sealand’s uncles spoiled him, but they weren't shy with their affections, either. Behind a stony exterior, Norway had a quietly caring side to him that really only came out towards young children and small animals. And Denmark for certain relished in the opportunity to let loose and dork around with someone on his own wavelength. Sealand matched the Danes weird, childish energy so well that they had got on like a house on fire from the word go.

The second the door latch had clicked shut, there came a squeal of excitement from inside the house followed by clattering footsteps as Sealand burst into the hall. 

“ _Uncle Denmaaaaaark!_ ” He leapt at the taller nation, who grabbed him and spun him around, nearly sending the nearby umbrella stand flying in the process. 

“ _Hej_ , you! Ready for a party weekend?” He set Sealand down on the floor, who bounced to where he had left his backpack at the bottom of the stairs. 

“Yup! I even packed my fluffy socks for floor skating!” Sealand slung the bag across his back then tried to grab his jacket down from the coat hooks, just out of his reach. 

“Kid, you are just in my head,” Denmark offered him a high five, then took the jacket down and handed it to his nephew. “What say you and I get going, leave ya boring dad to his knitting or whatever?”

Sealand chortled and nodded, darting forward to give his papa a quick hug goodbye. 

“You sure you don't want to stay for a coffee?” Finland’s voice came from behind Sweden, and if he were a lesser man he would have perhaps jumped. He often forgot how light Finland could be on his feet when he wanted. 

“Nah, I'm good,” Sweden caught the knowing smirk plastered across Denmark’s face. “Gotta get back to Norway before he gets bored and puts food out for the trolls again. You know how it is.”

“We… really don't,” laughed Finland, stepping forward to give Sealand a quick hug before moving to stand at Sweden’s side. “Have fun, you two.”

“We will,” Sealand moved over to the door, dropping an unsubtle hint that he was ready to go. “Bye Mama, bye Papa!”

Once they had waved them off from the porch, Sweden had moved back into the kitchen to finish up the washing up, just stacking the last of it to dry on the draining board before Finland slipped his arms around his waist from behind. 

“Hmm. How about… liquorice.” He went up onto his tiptoes to press a kiss to the back of Sweden’s neck. 

“Seriously, Fin?” Sweden turned to face the other, shifting away from the counter slightly and returning the embrace. 

“What's wrong with that? It's so yummy.” Finland traced a hand over the slice of collarbone that was visible under the collar of Sweden’s shirt, the gentle brush sending a small shiver down his spine. 

“If we're doing this,” Sweden sighed, “it's at least gotta be sexy food.”

“Like what,” Finland scoffed, “frogs legs in fishnet stockings?”

“That's… really not-”

“Oh, wait, I think I know what you mean,” Finland raised his eyebrows in mock innocence, before lowering his voice and smiling. Sweden hadn't realised that he had been slowly pushed towards the wall until it hit his back, and his wife had him pinned, nipping at an earlobe and tipping his voice into a sultry lilt. “You mean something sweet, something sticky. Something I can lick off your body, so slowly it drives you mad. Is that what you're thinking, Berwald?” 

He felt his breath hitch at the use of his human name, swallowing thickly. He didn't get a chance to reply before Finland giggled, pressing a kiss to his lips that ended too soon, then taking him by the hand and leading him upstairs. 

Once they reached the bedroom, Finland pointed at the bed. 

“Sit,” he said, and Sweden sat. He got comfortable in the middle of the bed, legs loosely crossed, watching as Finland wriggled out of his jumper. Sweden let out a small hum of appreciation as the movement tugged up the tshirt he was wearing underneath, revealing a flash of his soft stomach. 

Crossing to the wardrobe, Finland took the time to hang his jumper over the back of the chair beside it, then grabbed something from inside the door that he opened towards Sweden, blocking his view. When he turned back he bundled it behind his back, slinking back towards the bed before straddling across Sweden's lap. Whatever it was he took from the wardrobe was concealed behind him, not that Sweden was overly intrigued. It left his mind the second his glasses were gently removed from his face and placed on the bedside table, and Finland leant forward and captured his lips into a delicious kiss that deepened with each passing second. 

Fingers brushed at his hips as Finland began to slip Sweden’s shirt up and over his head, breaking the kiss momentarily to remove the fabric and then push Sweden to his back. A moan rumbled through Sweden’s chest, and the kiss was resumed, hotter and faster, before Finland broke away to trail kisses down his husbands abdomen until he reached the top of his jeans. Those he unbuttoned eagerly, slipping them down and letting Sweden kick them off the rest of the way. Once they were gone, Finland shifted backwards so that he could grind over the growing swell in Sweden’s underwear, getting another low groan to shudder from his husband in response. He then moved back further, nestling himself in between the Swede’s legs and therefore freeing them. 

“Get on the floor, Ber,” he purred, a fingertip ghosting along the inside of a thigh, “on your knees, close your eyes, and wait for me.”

Always willing to oblige,Sweden did just that, unsurprised when Finland stepped behind him and tied something silky over his eyes. It was a necktie, he placed, and the something that Fin had taken from the wardrobe. He idly wondered whose tie it was, after receiving a chaste peck to the lips as Finland took his hands and moved them behind his back. 

“Keep those hands there, you hear?” Sweden nodded, and got another kiss to his forehead. “Good boy. If you want to stop at any point, just say. You know the word.” Another nod, and a quick hug. “I love you. I'll be right back.”

The waiting game Fin liked to play was sometimes one of the worst ones. Sweden shifted a little, getting comfortable on the carpet. While he knew the room was empty he reached up to fiddle with the end of the tie, trying to work out what one it was by touch alone just to try and keep his mind away from the anticipation. He dropped his hand when he heard footsteps approaching. Once Fin was back in the room he heard the rustling of fabric, and the unscrewing of what sounded like a glass jar. 

“I'm back, Ber,” he said once he was knelt in front of the other. Sweden jumped at his voice, not having heard him move from the other side of the room. “I want you to open your mouth for me.”

Once he did so, he felt Finland's fingers slip in past his lips to rest on his tongue. Instantly a sweet yet tart flavour rushed into his mouth, and he hummed around the fingers as he sucked the substance from off of them. 

“Lingonberry jam?” He queried once the hand was gone from his mouth. 

“Mmhm!” He heard the poorly disguised excitement in Fin’s voice, and despite himself, Sweden smiled. 

“Now who's cliche.”

“Shut up.” A sharp flick to Sweden’s nipple made him squirm. “Do you want me to take off that blindfold or not?”

“Yes. I want to see you.”

“Then don't be a bitch about my condiment choices.”

“Sorry, Fin-” 

His apology was cut short by a yank to his hair, and Sweden groaned at the small bite that was nipped into his exposed neck. 

“Oh, I'm sorry, are we at work? You’d rather our stupid titles?” Fin reached a hand down and gripped harshly at Sweden’s groin, a touch not meant to be sensual. “I have a name, Ber. Use it,” he hissed. 

“Ah, Tino,” Sweden breathed, correcting himself. He squirmed again under Finland’s hands, eliciting a smug laugh from the other man. 

“Good,” he praised, his hands relaxing and trailing up Sweden’s chest, “and don’t you forget it. Now, have you been good enough to be able to see me? You didn't move while I was gone?”

“No, Tino. I didn't move.” He clenched his fists behind his back, resisting the urge to just rip off the tie already. The thought of Finland’s possible retaliation to that defiance quickened his pulse further, but he decided it would be better to play along to his partner’s whims this time. At least until the tie was removed. 

“Well, aren't you just the model husband.” One of Finland’s hands slipped to his neck, resting there as he captured Sweden in another deep kiss that ended far too soon. “Doing exactly what I ask, with no questions…”

“‘S cause I love you,” Sweden murmured, moving his head forward to brush his lips against Fin’s where they hovered barely an inch away, but the other drew back and placed a finger in the way instead. 

There was more jam on his finger. Sweden felt it smear against his skin, and his tongue instinctively darted out to lick it up. Finland took that moment to slip the finger back into his mouth. 

“Look at you, resorting to sweet talk already,” he pressed his finger down harshly against Sweden's tongue and giggled. “Aren't you lucky it works on me?” 

At that the tie was slipped from Sweden's eyes, and the man moaned softly at the sight of the other. 

Finland was naked all except for his underwear; close fitting boxers that cut gently into his hips. His chub spilt sweetly over the top of them, resting against his thighs that had pooled out and looked even bigger from where he was knelt. He had taken the time to spread a dusting of jam over the soft raise of his collarbones, and Sweden licked his lips before he could stop himself. He leant forward, hands moving from behind his back without him really thinking, but he was stopped by a hand to his chest and a devilish smile. 

“Bed first.” Finland got to his feet, looking down at his husband. Sweden didn't move from where he was, raking in the sight of Finland’s thick thighs that were now at his eye level before dragging his gaze upwards. “Get up, Ber. And sit where you were before.” 

It took no time at all before he was positioned back in the middle of the bed, and not even a split second after that for Finland to be straddling his lap again, jam jar at his left side and fingers anchored in at the nape of Sweden’s neck and pulling him in. Jam ended up streaking across Sweden’s cheekbone, but he didn't care. He pressed his tongue languidly against Fin’s collarbone, licking the red sauce slowly and poorly, sucking gently every once in awhile for good measure. His mind went back to earlier, when Fin had promised to be slow in his own ministrations, and Sweden didn't even bother to hold back his smirk. _Two can play at that game,_ he thought, hands slipping around to squeeze at Finland’s ass. 

At that, he got a grind against his lap, and a breathy sigh in his ear. It wouldn't take long for Fin to get impatient, Sweden knew, and so he slowed his kisses and nibbles even more, now sliding his fingertips underneath the waistband of Finland's boxer shorts. His jaw was gripped, then yanked upwards, and Sweden felt his dick twitch as he was trapped under Finland's smoking, half-lidded gaze. 

“Stop. _Teasing._ ” Finland's voice was low and dangerous, cheeks flushed. 

“Or what?” Sweden heard himself challenging, and the grip tightened on his jaw. 

“I'll just get myself off. Tie you up and make you watch _every_ second.” Finland darted forward and ran his tongue over the smear of red on Sweden's cheek. Sweden closed his eyes and chewed on his lip to hold back a moan. “I bet you'd like that, too. Especially when I'd force you to start begging.”

At that, Sweden did moan. His head tilted back the second the grip was released, and the other’s name escaped from his lips. A hand at his throat pushed him down onto his back, and it was quickly moved to make room for a sharp nibble. Part of him hoped it would bruise, but Sweden knew that Fin would never be that reckless. Those kinds of mistakes were centuries behind them. His hands automatically moved up to rest in Finland’s hair, but they were slapped away. 

“Nuh-uh. Who said you could do that?” Before Sweden could respond, Fin tutted. “You were doing so well, Ber.”

“I wasn't-” He started to protest, but Finland covered his mouth with his hand and moved back onto his knees. 

“I don't care.” The shorter’s eyes were alight with a cruel mischief. “You don't get to see me, now. Turn over. And don't move unless I say.”

“But-” he started, but then Finland narrowed his eyes, and Sweden quickly rolled onto his front.

“Good boy,” Fin purred, and Sweden shivered as he felt him trail cold jam across his back. It was a strange sensation, but not unpleasant in the slightest. From behind him he could hear the telltale sounds of Finland sucking his fingers clean, followed by a satisfied hum. He so wished he could have seen that. Sweden knew what that man could do with a tongue, and he shifted at the thought, face heating as he remembered the stupid fork at dinner hours prior. Those thoughts were chased from his mind the second he felt his wife’s warm tongue pressing to his back. 

“Fin…” Sweden shuddered as he felt the other move down to his lower back, but the sensation stopped as Finland pulled away to deliver a slap against the back of Sweden’s thigh. 

It was a quick blow with the back of Fin’s hand, sharp enough to leave a tingle that shot straight up Sweden’s spine. His breath left him, and before he could compose himself there were hands at his hips, hoisting him onto his knees. Through their underwear, he could feel Finland hard against his backside. 

“I could have _sworn_ we talked about this,” he hummed, fingers digging into his husband’s hips, “and I'm pretty sure I told you not to forget.”

“Sorry,” Sweden gasped. 

“Hmm?” The grip tightened into a pinch. 

“Sorry, Tino.”

“That's better.”

He returned to sucking at his husband’s back, trailing upwards to between his shoulder blades. A nibble to his shoulder had Sweden rutting back against Finland again, but then the pressure disappeared as the other pulled back to deliver another stinging glance with the back of his hand. Breath catching in his throat, Swe shuddered, now practically aching for release. 

“Stop moving,” he heard, Fin’s voice laced with threat, yet misleadingly sing-song. Unable to resist, he ground back one more time. The hit that followed was against his hip, open palmed, and much harder than the others. A low wail escaped his lips and Sweden had to force himself to swallow, his head clouding and thoughts unable to stray anywhere from the rushing, tingling heat that was gradually enveloping his body. Through the haze he felt a flash of Tino’s teeth to his skin, and he squirmed, panting, before a hand to his waist tugged him into rolling over. 

The second their eyes met he couldn't stop himself from reaching up towards the Finn’s waist, gaze drawn to the streak of crimson painted invitingly from the corner of his mouth to his cheekbone. For once he didn't receive admonishment for his moving uninvited, a shuddering moan escaping those perfect lips as Swe leant upwards to press open-mouthed kisses to the jam gracing his skin. There were chilled fingers at his chest the second their mouths collided in a rushed, heated frenzy, less of teasing and promises than an intensifying need just to feel each other. Fin broke away to push Sweden back down, sucking up the sweetness he had haphazardly smeared across his husband's chest and abdomen. The movements were becoming more hurried, mercifully free of the prolonging torment of earlier. Fin traced his way across Swe’s chest, his nipples, down his stomach to flick his tongue around his navel. His mouth then latched onto a hip, and Sweden bucked up, gasping, and Fin used that moment to free him of his underwear. The chill of the room hit his member and he hissed, before the warmth of Finland's hand encased it. A thumb pressed to the tip swirled the precome that had been steadily beading there. When that had begun, neither cared to know. A slow pressure slid down it as Finland tantalisingly worked a thumb and forefinger towards the base. As Sweden's thighs tensed from the sensation, a merciless smirk spread across Finland's cheeks. The pressure was gone all too soon as Fin let go, shifting upwards and slipping out of his own underwear and straddling across Sweden’s hip bones so that his cock was only just in contact with the soft skin of his ass. 

“Tino…” The plea tumbled from his lips before he could collect his thoughts, and the other leant over him so that his lips rested under his ear. 

“What's the matter?” Fin’s voice was soft, breathless, and Sweden shuddered. 

“ _Please,_ ” was all he could manage, registering somewhere in the back of his mind the way that he was gripping at the soft folds on Finland’s hips. There was a gentle yet self-satisfied hum from the Finn as he shifted his hips backwards to glance over the erection behind him. 

“Do you want me, Ber?” There was a moan bubbling somewhere under Tino’s words. At his his husband's hurried nods he hummed again, nibbling along his jawline before drawing his head back to send a gaze that shot straight through Sweden’s body.

“Oh, Ber,” he murmured, “I was hoping to get you to fuck _me_ tonight, but look at you.” He moved up and back, gripping their dicks together and rolling his head back as he slid his hand down. “You're practically _drooling_ … I bet you'd come the second you got inside me.”

Beyond words now, Sweden just spread his legs out underneath Fin, who no doubt noticed that. A strange tunnel vision had set across Sweden, focus only drawn to his wife’s face and the throbbing need between his legs and the prickling of sweat across his body. He couldn't recall when Fin had reached to their nightstand and had drawn out the lube, only when he felt slick fingers slipping inside his entrance that crooked upwards to glance against his prostate. Stars were dancing across his eyes as he heard the crinkling of a condom wrapper when Fin tore it open with his teeth, and then Fin was _inside_ him and his whole body felt like it might tear itself apart from the pure ecstasy flooding over him. 

A few moments passed, Fin letting his husband adjust out of courtesy more than Sweden’s need to do so. He then started up a steady rhythm of thrusts, each one a little harder and faster than the one before. It reached the point where neither could place whose moans were who's, until there were two jam painted fingers hooked into Sweden's mouth, not so effectively cutting off his exclamations. Fin’s other hand, still covered with lube, was working at his dick, teasing and pumping in time to each of his hip movements. Wildly reaching with his right hand, Sweden found the jar by his side and coated his thumb with the sweet substance and slipped it past Finland's lips. 

Finland's eyes were half-lidded in pure euphoria, a small bead of saliva escaping from his lips around the digit in his mouth, and Sweden was unable to tear his hazy vision away from the sight. Finland's own hand slipped from Sweden's mouth to rest on his chest, and three well angled thrusts had Sweden's back arching and his head lolling back as he came. He felt as if he were floating, everything rushing through his body at once, and he lost track of time until he heard the gasps and moans from above him that signalled Tino had reached his climax, too. 

He lay there, body shuddering as he came down, rolling into the embrace as Finland lay beside him. He felt kisses being peppered to his sweaty forehead, tender hands smoothing over the nape of his neck, his jaw, his back. He was distantly aware of small kisses of his own being pressed to Finland's chest. Some time passed until their breathing had levelled, and Swe’s mind had cleared somewhat. Fin was the first to speak. 

“Was that okay? You liked it?” He murmured into his husband's hair, fingers idly tracing over his shoulders. He got a nod in response. 

“Every second.” Sweden felt a smile break across his wife's cheeks. 

“I'm glad.” There was a satisfied sigh from the both of them as their embrace deepened for a moment, before Fin carefully extricated himself. 

“I don't know about you,” he mused, carding a hand through the other’s choppy hair, “but I fancy a bath. Sound good?”

Gracing Finland with a small, contented smile, Sweden let himself be lead to the bathroom. By the time they had rinsed the last of the bubbles from the bottom of the tub, they held some semblance of order to their thoughts. Enough that, once they had reached the bedroom and saw the state of the sheets, they had simply left the room and slipped under the covers in their empty guest bedroom, instead. 

The bedsheets could wait until tomorrow.


End file.
